MTL - Medieval Empire Soldier-Chapter 103 103. Towards the Port of Diets (Subscription required)

   Chapter 103 One Hundred Three · Marching to Dites Harbor (For Subscription)

   In just over half an hour, Pascal City on the coast of Nordland.

The endless smoke of gunpowder rose to the sky, the buildings turned to ashes, and thousands of northern predators shuttled through the town's roads, their axes covered in blood, roaring loudly, pulling the women's long hair with one hand, Dragging them behind, the poor women were thrown at random on a flat surface somewhere, and the Norscans howled on top of them, ripping at their precarious fabrics in a playful act.

Men, regardless of age, were killed and their heads cut off. Only the few young men who still had the strength to fight were left to participate in **** fights. Their final outcome was still unable to escape the sacrifice to the evil **** of chaos. .

When Varmir Aisling and more than one hundred warriors of Chaos God's Choice who guarded the "Blood Raven Butcher", stepped into the central building of Pascal City, a temple of the white wolf **** Uric, his mount , the frost demon dragon "Gonzales" is flying from the southern sky, the huge dragon teeth of the giant dragon are oozing blood, and hundreds of southerners who have fled for their lives have all died in the claws of this twisted and hateful monster. .

Marauder riders wandering inside the town galloped past on war horses. A series of human heads hung behind their mounts. The expressions of many of the heads remained at the moment of extreme fear before the temporary period. Their faces were flushed, and they belonged to fresh corpses. .

   Crying, screaming and wailing are the main melody of the southerners and the main melody of the whole town.

  The barbarian laughed happily, declaring the punishment and divine favor bestowed by the Chaos Gods.

"My king, the last resistance of the southerners, is gathered in this church of false gods who refuse to give their allegiance to the true god." Nurgle's chosen warrior, ruler of Bjorin's assembly, Skarner ·The Ripper said to the High King of Norsca.

   "My king, let me end their humble lives!" The Khorne God's Choice Champion stood aside and petitioned in a low voice.

During his long life, the High King of the Aisling tribe went south to loot the empire many times, causing unparalleled trauma to the people of Charlemagne along the coast of the empire. Know a lot about false **** beliefs.

   In the center of the front of the Uric Temple, the five-meter-high statue of Uric held a battle axe high in his hand, and the wolf-skin cloak flowed with the lines of the muscles without losing its metallic texture.

A thin layer of pure and holy white flames enveloped the eyes of the deity. Vamir Aisling vaguely noticed that a certain deity was glaring at him through the eyes of the deity. The High King of Norsca was familiar with this kind of anger. A monstrous anger that would tear the person in front of him into pieces.

   This made him more and more disgusted and hated these inferior southerners and their false gods.

"Pseudo-god, you want to save the believers in the temple, but you can't do anything, right." The Supreme King of Norsca took off his dragon helmet and pulled out the divine weapon, the Sword of Frost Mourning, given to him by the Chaos God, and walked step by step. The **** statue, he raised his head, his face deeply corrupted by chaos and demons was unmistakable, showing a look of contempt: "Weak resistance is meaningless in the face of the mighty power of the true god, the pet of the true god, will enjoy the flesh and heart of your believers, very Quick, the will of the gods will be spread by me throughout the entire southern empire! The power of chaos will sweep the world, and the proud army and strong men of the southerners will all be under my sword!"

   "Only chaos is immortal!"

  The words closed, the sword of frost slashed down with a dark tide, and the statue of the **** of white wolf was chopped into two pieces. Chaos corruption instantly took away the original metallic luster, and it shattered on the slate like dust.

   At almost the same time, the Winter Wolf Sacred Fire that was burning on the top of Urik's Temple was extinguished, and the last hope of Pascal City was also destroyed.

In the temple, Priest Yuric, who was over fifty years old, spit out a mouthful of blood, his legs softened, and he fell backwards. Fortunately, a few white wolf knights helped him in time, and he felt the faith in his soul. The strength became weaker and weaker, and he kept calling out the name of the wolf **** from the bottom of his heart, begging for a response, but the cold wolf **** did not give him any guidance.

   And the fact is just as Vamir Aisling imagined, the will of the wolf **** is cut off here, and the false gods of the southerners are powerless to fight against the northern gods.

   Hearing the footsteps of the looters who were getting closer and closer outside the temple, there was a cracking cry from the latch of the wooden gate, and the cheers of the barbarians became louder with every impact.

  The people guarding the Uric Church were desperate, and they had to clench the weapons in their hands to meet the judgment of fate.

  The aged Priest Uric was determined, he raised his battle axe with both hands, pressed the White Wolf scripture to his chest with one hand, and recited the prayer for the last time:

   "Uric gave me the fangs of the wolf;"

   "Uric gave me wolf claws;"

   "Uric gave me the fur of a wolf;"

   "And I will show the mercy of the wolf **** to your enemies."

The loud voice of    stirred up the Nords to fight, the white light of the extreme cold shrouded the blade of the axe, and the northern **** of war, Uric, answered the prayers of his loyal followers, even though his voice was suffering.

   Soon, the gate of the temple was smashed, and the barbarian warriors did not surround them. Their High King stood alone in front of the temple, the sword of frost was inserted into the stone slab, and he quietly watched Priest Uric.

   "For Uric!"

   "Long live Nord!"

  The last guards, led by Priest Uric, charged him, and the hoarse battle cries of several white wolf knights aroused the enthusiasm of the barbarians.

  The giant frost dragon hangs in the air behind Vamil, and under the agitation of dozens of meters of ice-blue membrane wings, the wind is blowing, and if it is a little unsteady, it will be overturned to the ground, and the tongue of fire will be spit between the dragon's teeth.

   Looking at the suicide charge of the southerners, the King Norsca's face was still grim and playful, and the low sound that roared like the ringing of a bronze bell poured into everyone's eardrums: "Dragon Flame!!"

  The giant dragon in the northern wasteland fixed its neck, opened its **** mouth, and the extremely cold dragon flame spewed out towards the brave southerners.

The original clean and pristine temple has been covered with a thick layer of frost, all the defenders and the residents hiding in the temple of Uric were killed by the dragon flames, sweeping the ice blue of the whole land, and everything turned into For the powder, only the battle axe with the will of the wolf **** was attached to it, and an invisible white light flashed, and a scorched black severed hand was buckled on the axe handle.

   "My warrior!" The Frost Demon Dragon lowered its body from mid-air, and the High King of Norsca turned around and called the Khorne God's Choice Champion: "Destroy it."

   "Yes, my king!"

The brass sprocket tomahawk slashed violently, and endless blood slammed into the white light in an instant. There was a violent reaction between corrosion and purification. The scorching smell swept the entire area. After a few breaths, a sound like glass shattered. , the battle axe attached to Uric's will was split in two.

   This undoubtedly proves the supreme power of the Chaos Evil God. Kamala Dragon Bloodhound raised his axe and shouted loudly: "Skull offering skull!!"

   "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!" In the endless smoke and ruins, all the barbarians roared up to the sky with a terrifying sound, announcing the arrival of the wrath of the north.

Groups of Nords were slaughtered in the clearings of Pascal City, the barbarian warriors laughed and plucked their heads from their necks, and the raiders continued to capture the southerners and **** them here, hundreds of them. Thousands of refugees were taken from their hiding places.

The exile from the Silver Tower of the Chaos Demon Realm, the Tzeentch Warlock Torina Ingerson, the top of the wand wand in his hand is a relief like a crescent moon, and a dark blue vertical pupil like a crow's eye keeps turning around, a A silver thread spread from Tzeentchman's body to the altar in the clearing.

Above the grotesque and thin body, a third hand grew out of Torina Ingerson's rib, holding a snake-blade dagger, the Chaos Tome floated in the air in front of him, and twisted bytes outlined the altar A figurative scene that appears in the air.

It is a dark and huge area, it does not belong to any realm, it is not connected with any gods, it exists at the junction of chaos and order, darkness is the main theme there, and the black mist forms a vortex to rotate, as if it can make people's souls. Take it in, never let it go.

The sixty-six pink dreads under Tzeentch sing blasphemous bytes, and the demons carry out sacrificial rituals, just to find out the realm of the sky, which belongs to the realm of the uncrowned king, the southerners one by one Their heads were thrown into it, along with their missing souls.

   Witnessed by hundreds of warriors of Chaos, in the center of the altar, the mutilated, withered and slender hands slowly floated up, the palms without thumbs and little fingers were slowly bent, and the index finger with a single hook like a claw pointed to somewhere in the south.

This is the remains of the first Southerner killed by the Uncrowned King, cursed forever by the Chaos Gods, until the Uncrowned King, who lurks in the shadows, is slain, and until then his soul will be trapped in the wreckage, the moment Corrupted by the source of chaos.

  The Frost Demon Dragon fluttered its wings and landed on the side of the altar. The burly King Norsca jumped down steadily, and his extremely heavy body smashed into fine cracks.

"My great king, the gods have found the answer for you. The uncrowned king hides in the territory of the southerners, and he has been waiting for the opportunity." Tzeentch warlock Torina Ingerson bowed slightly, revealing his original face, blue Like an illusory robe, one eye is wearing the crown of golden spires, and several pairs of demon eyes are watching the mortal world through the crown of golden spires: "The oracle has descended, and you will take away the power of the uncrowned king and become the one who ends everything. The anointed of false gods, chosen by God for eternity!"

   "Where is he." Vamir Aisling remained unmoved, holding the hilt of the Sword of Frost in one hand.

  The Tzeentch Warlock turned his one eye and smiled gloomily: "In the territory of the southerners, there is no need to worry, my king, we will find him soon."

   "Sigh!"

The Supreme King of Norsca drew out his great sword, his eyes flashed with cold light, the sharp blade pressed against Torina's throat, and a dark tide-like flame spewed from his eyes: "The exiled warlock, in front of me, your tricks are vain. If there is nothing, let go of all your dignity and kneel down."

"My king, I will always be your most faithful servant." Facing Vamir's tall body and Kapa's power, the Tzeentch warlock was terrified, he leaned on his wand and knelt tremblingly: "You need me, you need me I can only find the Uncrowned King with the help of me, and only I know his real name."

   "No more offense, use your life to wash away the shame of loyalty!"

The Supreme King of Norsca slammed down the great sword, and the left shoulder of Tzeentch was slashed diagonally. The tyrannical breath kept tearing Torina Ingerson's severed limb wound, and a huge amount of magic wind blew from his shriveled and thin body. gushing.

  “Gah!!”

   The miserable sound of crows burst out, piercing the eardrums of everyone present, and around the altar, dozens of southerners who lacked willpower, their heads exploded under the screams.

"Stupid tricks won't cover up your misfortune. A warlock banished from the Tower of Silver, your ambition is bigger than the abyss of the sea of ​​​​claws. However, I appreciate ambitious people and spare your life." Mir Esslin said calmly: "Tell me, where is the Uncrowned King. Before I cut off his head, your head belongs to you for the time being."

". Forgive my stupidity, my king, sacrifices require more sacrifices, and the price of driving the magic book is extremely high. It needs to devour the soul of the strong to truly give the wreckage the power of guidance." The severe pain, temporarily stitched up the body with magic, he forced himself to remain calm: "We have captured too few southerners, and the number is far from enough. We need to occupy a giant town and slaughter enough souls."

  The High King of Norsca cast his sights on the west coast of Nordland, where there is a large and prosperous port city, from which his army will get everything it wants, including a grand sacrifice.

   "March to Dites Harbor!!"

  South of Nordland, east of Dracowald Forest, Oakland.

   In the early morning, the bad news from Nord in the north was handed to Laren.

The barbarians generally set out to plunder in the autumn and winter, and stop plundering in the early spring of February and March of the following year, and return to the northern wasteland, because after March, the northern wasteland will usher in a rare warmth, about a month to For a month and a half, this was the only time they could farm the land and replenish their livestock.

   Now that the time has just come to the beginning of August, the barbarians are going south in this season, which will undoubtedly make things worse.

   Soon, the knights of the kingdom ordered to gather their courtiers and rushed to the lord's longhouse.

"Our northern neighbor, the Nordland, is still very weak at this time, and the production has been greatly reduced. The entire province has been plunged into famine. Their limited army is stationed everywhere to suppress the rebellion. The key point is that the Nordland also has the entire The northern border has the most extensive coastline, and for this reason, facing the massive invasion of barbarians, the Elector of Nord is bound to send a letter of help to Midden." The kingdom knight Nikas Francis stood up from his seat and made a loud voice. Said: "We must prepare for the war call, it will be a **** battle."

   "Your Excellency Francis, do you mean to fully mobilize, or to prepare a part of the army?" Affairs Officer Pittman raised a key question.

   "Full-scale mobilization, of course, to defend the Empire's coastline must do everything possible."

   Ask for a ticket and ask for a subscription

   (end of this chapter)